CHAPTER 23

When he was reflecting on the night, he saw an enormous scorpion crawl across the sky. He then realized that the astral plane is crashing - the dead are returning and some of them are pissed off. Humans will experience death from the sky; from the world of spirit. He had a vision of a plutonium bomb exploding a cloud of gold dust into the stratosphere. This would help anchor the reptilian collective consciousness to the Earth.

-- Passage from the lost Michael Memoirs

He was sitting in a car trying to start the ignition. He gritted his teeth in anger, squeezed his eyes so tight that light oozed out. He opened his eyes and found himself sitting at a table with Maria.

"Light the three candles," she said handing him some matches. She mumbled to herself some ancient incantation as a blue candle was lit, then a violet candle and than a white one. A bowl of water sat in the middle of the table. She placed her hand on the edge of the bowl and mumbled a few more words. Candy appeared in front of him. Her eyes seemed to stare through him. Michael felt Marie was reaching into him. Sweet cakes appeared next.

"Place your hand over the bowel."

His insides trembled as he placed his hand over the bowel. He sensed a white bluish light burning in the middle of his forehead. He felt dizzy but it passed quickly through him.

"Pray," she said emphatically. "Pray to God that you are cleansed."

A white mist came up from the floor as he heard echoes of her chanting in the background. The candles even seemed to chant along with him. He heard sounds coming from himself that he didn't even understand. A chant marched through him from deep inside. Soon it appeared that the space of their being was totally engulfed in the white mist.

"I go to the Father through the Christ," he heard a part of himself say from within.

As he looked at his hands placed over the bowel, tapping it gently, drops of blood fell from the palm of his hands into the clear water which was not turning muddy like the Mississippi. He thought he saw a few eyes staring through the muddy waters at him. The bowl trembled. Marie started vibrating. The moment cracked and he felt a bleed through from this event. He woke up from a troubled sleep. He looked around the room. He heard nothing but saw a faint glow around his altar. The sounds of New York trembled in the background. He pulled the covers over his head and kept repeating to himself, "I don't believe in spooks, I don't believe in spooks, I don't believe in spooks."

I can't sleep. I will go for a walk. I decided to walk through Central Park. It is 3:30am. Not the smartest thing to do but I wanted somewhere quiet. It was not that quiet. I found myself walking a path where men were sitting in trees eyeing other restless men passing by. At first I thought they were ghost. But I could smell life in them. I did see ghost walking through Central Park following the living.

Then I saw him. He was homeless. This was the first time Daniel and I met.

The television set was like a flashing neon sign, the sound was inaudible, footsteps passing by sounded like scraps against the floor, a breeze peeked into the room, and cigarette smoke veiled two naked bodies moving to a silent rhythm. Wine staled air passed through them like the waters in the Venice canals carrying memories serenading each other. Touches reached into areas within planting seeds. The friction of bodies rubbing together, drinking each other's tear drops sent waves of heat erupting their senses. They both staggered around intoxicated by the smell perfuming their emotional body.

The lateness of the hour called their loneliness to surface and embraced the nakedness of the moment and the dance of the light in each other's eyes.

Michael kissed the sweat growing ripe on Daniel's neck. A tongue traced the path a thought would take to erupt his hearing. His nipples became erect, sensitive. Feelings were like ropes twisted. It was a sharp pain, a crack, a flowing release as Michael's tongue was playful with Daniel's nipple. Kissing it. Teasing it. Tracing circles with it. Nibbling it. Washing it with his salvia, pulling at it. Tugging at it.

Michael's eyes were closed.

Images passed by as ominous distorted shapes.

A parting occurred.

A mouth opened. It wasn't human.

Why now in the middle of my lovemaking? The creature parted its mouth. He saw small gelatin shapes surrounding the creature.

What is the meaning? Like I can stop and analyze this. What timing, I'm not amused or impressed. White light rained from his inner eye.

He let his tongue paint Daniel's chest as he slowly moved down his body. Tasting. Tasting.

There seem to be an endless supply he felt he could drink. His body, like a chalice, poured itself into him. Michael sensed he was losing human shape. He became like an ocean, still, dark, mysterious. And deeper into this mystery he felt his consciousness plummeting. There was no turning back. The emotional currents took him deeper and deeper.

Daniel felt his breathing coming in gasp as he felt his breath coursing through him like a babbling brook dancing over stones, there was laughter in his breath, a joyful noise, that sent his sense through regions of his mind devastating the remains of static beliefs. He felt consumed by this wind blowing away the dust off of ancient writings within him that became activated once again and he felt the sun within touching them both. A sigh reverberated through him. Daniel fingers dug deep into Michael's backside.

Michael imagined a million eyes swimming in the depths of the ocean that his consciousness was passing through. Blinking, twinkling like stars, these eyes were in awe of the foreigner, the alien that pass through their depth. But a kinship was felt. And he heard a silence come from the eyes, a chant, a prayer, a psalm. "Uthra rise." A light began pulsating. "Mother, we are here," he heard within his being. And he continued swimming through this sea of consciousness.

Why do I love him so Daniel thought? I dance in a world where I am shunned; where I am ignored, where people wish me dead and will make me a ghost so they do not see me. Who is this Michael that has called me to him? Who is he that sings me from my slumber? So comely. So dark. So much of his light is rushing over me. He breathes through me, his light dances in grey areas of my mind. I want to dance in the clouds with him. I speak in joy; my touch is like birds singing. And we move in and out of each other and I weep for a heart that has shown me the way. I feel like I am going home.

A tear from Daniel's eyes touched the carpet. It rippled like a wave on a stream. The room and all within it began humming a low tone.

Michael felt himself imploded within as swirling lights emerged from the darker regions of his mind.

The Light was giving birth.

He always found a shower refreshing. It was a time for chanting, prayers, centering, letting go. Stepping out of the bedroom, he wasn't concerned or felt he should be aware. A chill breathed across him. Daniel was still sleeping. He sniffed the air. He smelled something like rotting eggs. Michael felt himself paralyzed. He wanted to call out to Daniel. The room wavered. He sensed a level change. This happens when other worldly entities wanted to make themselves known or a battle between hidden forces was about to take place. Humans would not know there were other worlds venturing into theirs and manipulating.

A gray mist poured down from the ceiling and parted revealing a huge face hovering over the bed. Spittle dropped from its mouth hitting Daniel who was still sleeping. The spittle crawled over Daniel's body quickly. It was like a black film that cocooned itself over him. The face was crackling with malevolent energies.

 

Michael shook off the paralysis. His eyes began to glow. "Who are you," Michael asked telepathically.

The face said nothing.

"I cannot accept your presence here in this apartment. You are not invited."

Michael held onto the door frame. The temperature of the area was dropping.

"This body no longer serves my hunger because of you. Your sexual exchanged implanted him with light. He is no longer tasty. Those who no longer can feed me must die."

"I don't think so."

A wind flapped itself about him. Michael was attempting to summon his soul sword but he felt pain racking through his head. The face was pulsating with a foul energy. There was an explosion of black light.

He was in another room. Everything had a grayish tone to it. Three men were standing around. He knew them as entities who feed off of the flame of those dying.

"You don't belong here," they said in unison to Michael."

"Do the deed, do the deed," said one of the three.

"He must die. He must die. He has no light. He has no sight. He belongs down here with us."

"He is not your property."

"Death calls. Death calls. Don't stall. Don't stall."

In a wink of an eye, they entered with a body bag and laid it on the couch.

"He's ours. He is ours. We are like moths to this death flame."

"You cannot claim him," Michael said defiantly.

"Look what he has done to you, confuse your mind, make you blue, comes to you with crawling hands to make you a fallen man."

Michael made a hand gesture. Daniel began to peel back the body bag.

"He is ours," all three of the men cried.

"We want him back, and in tack or you will face the wraith."

"Be gone scourge of the lower depths while my temper is kept." A symbol of the Ancient One rose from his hand and engulfed the three. There was a flash of light. Michael was once again standing in the door frame still dripping wet from his shower, Daniel was sleeping soundly.